


That Electricity Thing

by little_abyss, ponticle



Series: Agony and Audacity [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Feelings, Friends to Lovers, Grinding, Memories, Porn with Feelings, Vaginal Sex, the electricity thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 05:44:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14994038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_abyss/pseuds/little_abyss, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponticle/pseuds/ponticle
Summary: Isabela discovers she might be in over her head--and she likes it.





	That Electricity Thing

* * *

It has taken _so_ long to get here. A year in the making... or was it ten? Anders toiled endlessly on his manifesto and nearly killed himself caring for every miscreant in Darktown while Isabela pretended not to notice. The world fell apart around them and they’re somehow still standing. And now…

_Maker, it’s so good._

Here, in the variable flicker of firelight, they’re face to face, kissing and touching, grabbing and grinding, breathing the same air… it’s so slow and intentional it could be something—a thing so foreign and beautiful… it’s terrifying. Isabela’s mind slips sideways…

False starts at every turn. A sidelong glance, a drunken leer… but always _something_ that stopped her—stopped them. And now; tonight, no barriers or haphazard clothing to come between them, but perfect skin—lighter and darker—freckles across his nose and tan along her shoulders.

_Fuck. Yes._

She remembers back to a million years ago when they were veritable strangers—boasting about conquests and comparing deviancy. _That electricity thing._ It was a game… In fact, Isabela has always played a game where sex is concerned—a game she wins. But in _this_ context, she can’t remember what constitutes winning and losing, what feelings she’s supposed to feel or words she’s supposed to say.

“Maker,” she pants and writhes. She trails her hand down his stomach toward where they meet, lingers on the ridge before his hip, and she _wants_ this—she knows she does.

“What do you need?” he asks, voice raspy and broken, but _kind_.

“Just—” But Isabela doesn’t have words for this. “...just fuck me; do anything you want to me." It isn’t at all what she’d normally say— _not_ what she’d normally do. It’s all backwards; she doesn’t know who she is…

He raises an eyebrow, both questioning and sure. And before she even has time to evaluate how that expression makes her feel, he’s hauled her thigh up over his hip and flattened her into the mattress. It’s a delicate place to be—a place she doesn’t normally go… exposed, vulnerable… but she’s not afraid; she wants it, she realizes.

“Anders, fuck… just…” it’s broken and stupid, but she _loves_ it. “I want _you_.”

He laughs, then—a gentle sound she’s heard him make a thousand times before, whenever he’s _actually_ happy, and she can’t believe that _she’s_ the one… the one to make him make that sound.

“I want you too,” he says and leans down to kiss her with a gentle kind of strength.

 

 _Dear god_. It feels _so_ good.

 

As he rocks into her, it’s like he fits—like they were made as two halves of a strangely shaped whole. And as she thinks of it, that’s sort of what they _are_ … coming to this union as equal and opposite forces—Anders with his solitary existence, Isabela with her endless one-night-stands… neither of them familiar with the middle.

“Bel…” He smooths his hand over her cheek. “Maker, you’re perfect.”

...and it isn’t the first time someone has said that to her. In fact, she hears it all the time, but this might be the first time she thinks it’s true—that _he_ believes it.

“Shut up, you sap,” she barks, but she can’t even pretend to be mad. “Please… just…” She reaches for him, digs her fingertips into his sides.

He backs up, pausing, thrusts growing shallow. She’s about to argue, when she realizes why: he grabs her right wrist and drags it toward her cunt. “Come,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “Don’t you _want_ to?”

She laughs; it’s all she can do to avoid sobbing. The last hour ( _year_?) of this has left her so close to the edge, she knows she’s about to fall off. So she rubs and grinds and lets herself be dragged underwater, listening to the sounds Anders makes and smelling his skin...

 

...and in the darkness of her eyelids, sparks flash… it was the electricity thing all along.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 of our porn adventure. I'm excited that I got to write for a pairing I've never done before. Who knows what we'll think up next! Subscribe to the series for updates. :)


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